


You Came Upon Me Excerpts

by 6mgs7



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Excerpts, Fluff and Angst, Gallavich, Incomplete, Just Add Kittens, M/M, Shameless, Slice of Life, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 11:24:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12341724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6mgs7/pseuds/6mgs7
Summary: These are 7 short excerpts from a much longer WIP titled "You Came Upon Me."  I will post the entire story in its entirety once completed (150K+ words)Hoping to build up some excitement and subscribers with a little taste of the story here.  Please let me know your thoughts - I'm truly interested to know if you think I'm missing the mark completely on characterization.  Also, there are no kittens in these excerpts... regardless of what the Tags say!  I just thought it was funny when it auto picked that!





	You Came Upon Me Excerpts

In the Kitchen:

Ian cooked for them – real food – and while it wasn’t Top Chef quality, it was usually damn good. He left desserts in the kitchen with Mickey’s name scribbled on a sticky note letting him know he had permission to eat it. Sometimes there was a treat in there with a different sticky note, threatening a painful death if Mickey went anywhere near it. Mickey had learned the hard way that when Ian left those notes, it was not a fucking joke! Apparently, those desserts were meant for that dumb cooking class Ian was going to. But when the class was over, Mickey would always find a healthy portion of the leftover treat with his name and a smiley face in the fridge waiting for him.

“Ian. Ian wake up.” He nudged the red head’s shoulder.

“What the fuck, Mickey. What time is it?”

“Who the fuck knows. Which cake can I eat?”

“What??”

“You have all this shit in the fridge and you didn’t put my name on any of them.”

Ian laughed into his pillow and shook his head. “Did you just wake me up for dessert?”

Mickey looked over Ian’s bare back, the muscles on his light skin visible in the dark room. “Dessert? Well… mostly just cake.“

“Fuck. I don’t care, I’m sleeping... No, wait! Not the chocolate one.”

“Why the fuck not? I love chocolate.”

“Jesus, Mickey! Why are you asking if you’re just gonna argue with me anyway?”

“Because the last time I touched your precious desserts without asking, you nearly fucking lost your mind! I thought I was gonna have to start dialing your Crazy Phone Tree list, starting at the bottom with 911 to save my own fucking life! Just tell me which one I can eat.”

Ian threw the sheet off of himself and pushed Mickey away from him so that he could stand up. He stomped out of his room like a petulant five-year-old toward the kitchen. There were three different dishes that Mickey had pulled out of the fridge, now sitting on the counter, all of them unwrapped.

The first was a pineapple upside down cake. Ian set his stubborn jaw in place as he looked at Mickey with frustration then pointed to the cake.

“You don’t even fucking LIKE this cake, so why did you take it out?” Mickey shrugged his shoulders as Ian wrapped it back up and put it in the fridge. He took a sticky note from the drawer and wrote “FIONA” across it, sticking it to the foil of the pineapple cake.

“Who puts fruit in cakes – that’s disgusting, man.”

The second dish had a bundt cake Ian had brought home from one of his classes two days ago. Mickey had eaten most of it, leaving two small slices on the dish.

“What’s wrong with this one? You liked it. Just eat the rest of it.”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I want some of that one.” Mickey pointed at the 3rd dish. A triple chocolate cake with walnuts pressed into the sides. There was a giant gash on the side of the cake, and if Ian were to guess, that gash probably matched the size of Mickey’s index finger perfectly.

“Did you stick your fucking fingers in my fucking cake, Mickey?”

Mickey smiled and lied. “No.”

“You asshole. I have class tomorrow! Not. This. Cake. I’m not kidding Mickey! This took me four hours to make.”

“Keep your panties on, Betty Crocker! I ASKED you first, didn’t I? Do you see any pieces missing from it?”

Ian was tired, and grumpy, and it was 2 o’clock in the fucking morning, and he had no patience for Mickey and his antics right now. He handed Mickey the plate with the left over slices of bundt cake.

“That’s your cake. Do you need me to put a fucking sticky note on it?”

Mickey flipped him off. “Fine. Fucking don’t share the chocolate cake, asshole. Hand me the milk.”

Ian turned to get the milk from the fridge, and Mickey swiped his finger along the other side of the chocolate cake, his finger coming to his mouth so quickly that he nearly missed and wiped half of the chocolate on the side of his lip. Ian turned around with the milk just in time to see Mickey trying to lick the evidence off his face. His eyes went wide with guilt as he sucked the chocolate off his lips.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, man! Did you actually just… “ Ian threw his hands in the air in surrender. “Fucking fine. Look what you did. How am I supposed to take that in now? Go get your fucking wallet, because you’re paying for the shit I need to buy to make another one, asshole!”

Mickey pulled his wallet from his pants pocket and tossed twenty dollars onto the counter for Ian.

“So is it mine now?”

“Fuck you, Mickey.”

“I heard, ‘Yes.’ Get a plate. You can have one slice.”  
________________________________________________________

In the Bedroom:

“My name… “ He tucked his head in close until his lips just brushed Ian's ear as he spoke. His hand reaching around Ian’s neck so he could pull him in even closer, if that were even possible. He bit Ian’s earlobe, pulling on it with his teeth, then sucking gently at the mark he’d left. “...is Mikhailo …” His lips drifted down Ian’s neck, the warmth of his breath moist on the skin, stopping to bite and suck along the way. “...Aleksandr…” He took in a mouthful of flesh just above Ian’s collar bone, working a deep bruise into the soft pale skin, marking him, tasting him, claiming him as his own. “...Fucking Milkovich.”

“Fuuuck. That’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Say it again.” In one swift move, Ian flipped Mickey onto his back and pinned him to the mattress with both arms pressed near his head, “Please, Mickey. I swear to god I’ll never leave this fucking bed again if you just say it again!”

“Shut the fuck up and get on me.” He laughed, bucking his hips up hard into Ian’s, a wicked smile lighting his face.

They christened Ian’s bed that day, again and again, breaking from their goal of using up the entire sleeve of condoms just long enough to grab waters and snacks, to grab Ian’s computer so they could watch Netflix, to take short cat naps wrapped in each other’s arms, and finally to find real food so that Ian could take his pills.

They cooked egg and cheese sandwiches together for dinner wearing nothing more than their boxers, nearly burning it all as they got lost in kissing against the kitchen counter. They talked, they laughed, they reached for each other every time one came near the other.

When the sun was finally long gone, they left the dirty dishes on the counter and retreated to Mickey’s room for the night, completely spent and sated from a full day of sex and everything else they had managed to squeeze in. They fell asleep face to face, limbs tangled together under the sheets as they spoke in hushed voices until neither had realized that they had slipped away from consciousness. It was the best fucking day of either of their lives.

__________________________________________________________

In a Fight for Your Life:

Mickey’s eyes never left his brother’s gaze, watching for the slightest change as he held his weapon on Ian. Mandy and Iggy pleaded with Colin to put the gun down as Mickey took three slow steps to the left, putting himself dead center between Ian and the gun. His hands were up at his sides in surrender.

“Put the fucking gun down, man. Have you lost your fucking mind?” He tried to keep his voice calm and even. He could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest.

Colin’s eyes darted nervously to Mickey, no longer able to see Ian. Mickey moved forward, careful not to make any sudden moves. He stopped just short of the gun's barrel, now aimed inches from his own chest.

“This what you want? Hmmm? You need to put a fucking bullet through some faggot to feel better? Well here I am... do it. Do! It!”

___________________________________________________________

(No Longer) In the Closet:

Mickey held his phone in his clammy hand. Even in the air-conditioned building he was sweating like he’d just run ten miles. He was all nerves, trying to steady his breath every time he pulled his phone out. He’d spent the past four hours taking it from his pocket just to put it right back in, trying to decide how to do what needed to be done. He finally took a deep breath and just said “Fuck it!”

Mickey: Hey shithead

Mandy: Fucker

Mickey: I kissed a boy, and I liked it :)

His phone rang just seconds after the text was delivered. He clicked the button to decline the call. After four hours of debating on how to tell his sister, he might be ready to text this new revelation to her, but he sure as hell wasn’t ready to talk to her about it on the phone or in person!

Mandy: Motherfucker!!!! Answer your goddamn phone, Mickey!

Mickey: Fuck you! No  
____________________________________________________________

In a Bad State of Mind:

Mickey grabbed a couple beers from the fridge then headed back to the living room and began unpacking the burgers and fries from the grease stained bag, “Come on, let’s eat.” He threw his legs up on the coffee table, grabbing the remote to flip through channels for something to watch.

“So you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What the fuck you asking stupid questions for? Nothing’s wrong. Eat your burger.”

“Ok.” Mandy started unwrapping her burger.

“Some dude called me a white supremacist homophobic dick.”

“What the fuck!? Did you kick his ass? You better have fucking kicked his ass, Mickey!”

He stuffed another bite of the burger into his mouth, and took a drink of beer to wash it down.

“Nah. Didn’t exactly say it directly to me, you know. I just overheard a conversation.”

“Ok… and? Since when don’t you fuck someone up when you hear them talking shit about you?”

“Didn’t really say it about me, specifically, I guess. They were talking about Terry mostly, but you know, the Milkovichs in general.” Mickey took another drink of beer. “Probably should’ve fucked him up, but … they ain’t wrong.”

“So, you gonna tell me who said it? Still don’t understand why the fuck you didn’t kick his ass.”

“Because he was right, Mandy.” He said impatiently, looking at her as if to drive the point home so she would stop arguing.

“He was fucking right. Terry is a … fucking homophobic asshole, and I know that better than anyone. I’ve been on both ends of his hatred – handing out the beatings alongside him, and taking them as well. So what the fuck should I have said to the guy? Huh?”

This was the closest Mickey had ever come to acknowledging he might be gay.

“Mick, I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what? You’re not fucking blind, Mandy! You live in the same fucking house that I live in!” Mickey was nearly screaming at her now. Mandy instinctively pulled her legs up in front of her, making her body small in the chair as he pointed and yelled.

“You think Terry just woke up one day and said, ‘Hey let’s fuck with Mickey! Let’s just beat the shit out of him every fucking day until he breaks or fucking shoots himself in the goddamn head!’ Is that the fucking fantasy world you live in – because I didn’t see him handing out ass whippings to anyone else in the house the way he was giving them to me! His fucking useless piece of shit faggot son! He was probably hoping he could fucking beat it out of me! Maybe if I bled enough or broke enough, I’d be just like the rest of you. Fuck him! Fucking asshole! He fucking hates everything about me – well I can’t fucking stand the sight of him either!”

Mickey threw his beer across the room, shattering the bottle into the wall.

“Mickey, stop!”

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you. You want me to stand up for this fucking family when someone accuses the Milkovichs of being homophobic assholes, but not a single fucking person in this house has ever stood up for me against the biggest asshole of them all. Have they!?”

He got in Mandy’s face, poking his finger hard into her shoulder, spitting the words from his mouth, “When the fuck did you ever stand up for me, Mandy? Tell me one goddamn time.”

Mickey kicked the table, sending his food flying as he stormed from the room. He slammed his bedroom door behind him, leaving Mandy shaking in his wake. She’d never been on the receiving end of Mickey’s anger before. She’d never feared being in his presence until tonight as she sat there not knowing if he was going to hit her or not. Tears escaped her eyes and she quickly wiped them away. She ran off to her own room, slamming the door behind her, leaving her food untouched and the television on.

_________________________________________________________  
In a Morning Funk:

They were up at the crack of dawn with Ian’s alarm. Ian slipping into his gym shorts to go for a run, Mickey grumbling his way to the kitchen to start the coffee and scramble some eggs. They pecked each other on the cheek like an old married couple before Ian headed for the door, but Mickey grabbed his ass and squeezed hard before Ian got away, like the young men that they were.

Mickey fucking hated early mornings, and for the life of him he didn’t know why he was out of bed yet. Ian had slipped from the covers leaving the sheets around Mickey growing cool in his absence, essentially waking Mickey up… and so he had followed.

He started the coffee then walked over to the retrieve the TV remote from the couch, setting the channel to Ian’s Pandora station. It was some stupid fucking station he had created with a mix of songs from every genre imaginable – a mixed bag, so you never knew what was going to play next. If it were Mickey’s station there would be growling voices, screaming guitars, and pounding drums.

Mickey didn’t even think to change it – he just turned the volume up loud enough to fill the apartment without disturbing the neighbors at this early hour. Some opera shit began to play that made him do a double take and look at the screen. He lifted the remote, close to skipping to the next song, but the music was hypnotic. Duettino Sull’aria, Le nozze di Figaro – that was the name of the song. He had no fucking idea what it meant, but he hit the ‘Thumbs Up’ button next to the song before setting the remote back on the couch.

He took Ian’s extra pill bottles out of the cupboard and counted the correct amount from each, then grabbed the bottle of multi vitamins and added one of them to the other pills. He set all of them on the table with a bottle of water. He added six eggs to a bowl and began to whip them up, setting a small skillet on the stove without turning on the burner. Ian would be gone twenty minutes. He was almost always gone twenty minutes unless it was his day off, then he ran for an hour. Mickey looked at the clock on the wall and decided he had time to a shower. He stopped in the living room to pause the song that was playing so he could replay it again when he got out.

What the fuck was he doing up this early… listening to fucking opera? Fucking hell…

______________________________________________________

Into the Water

Mickey was 40 minutes late getting back to the table after his lunch break, and was clearly not carrying a hamburger for Johnson when he arrived. He was however, dripping all over the floor, his shoes squeaking beneath him on the gym floor with each step, his shirt sticking to him and jeans basically painted to his legs.

“You’re late, Milko… Whoa, what the hell happened to you? You look like someone tried to drown you.” Johnson eyed the dripping mess in front of him.

“Somethin’ like that,” Mickey grinned, brushing his fingers through his hair and away from his face. “Dunk tank was short an idiot for a while. I got recruited.”

The smile on Johnson’s face surprised even Mickey. There were a million unspoken things in that smile letting Mickey know that maybe he wasn’t such an asshole after all.

“So, you go out for a burger and somehow you decide that volunteering to be a drown rat, while you’re dressed…” Johnson pointed up and down at Mickey’s jeans and t-shirt, “like that was a good idea? Yeah, ok, Milkovich.”

Mickey’s smile grew wicked as he walked up close to Johnson and began shaking his head and body off like a wet dog, spraying water in every direction, wetting Johnson and all his precious papers on the table as well.

“Fuck, Milkovich!!! Knock that shit off!”

Mickey’s eyebrows shot straight up his forehead, as he sternly reminded Johnson, “HEY, LANGUAGE, JOHNSON! No fucking hamburger for you!”

___________________________________________________

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks in advance for any kudos! I appreciate you taking a minute to read my work! Let me know what you thought in the comments (or send me some fun prompts)
> 
> Find me most days at https://twitter.com/usalas4  
> 


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